


the part of me that is you

by AsunaChinaDoll



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Din Djarin Is a Sweetheart, During Canon, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, ManDadlorian, Missing Scene, Precious Baby Yoda, during season 2: chapter 14, i just want to hug them pls, it deters a bit from the episode, not quite tho, uh yeah this may pull at the heart strings a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsunaChinaDoll/pseuds/AsunaChinaDoll
Summary: The planet of Tython looms before them. As the Mandalorian gazes forward, he couldn’t help the cold sense of dread that kneads at his stomach. He has to do this. Hehasto do this. For Grogu, he thinks, ignoring the heaviness in his chest. He takes a breath.“Grogu,” he starts, turning in the pilot’s seat. His visor lands on an empty chair.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin, Grogu & Din Djarin
Comments: 74
Kudos: 369





	the part of me that is you

**Author's Note:**

> Yooooo so chapter 14, right? 😭😭😭 Haha had so many feels I wrote this instead of sleeping
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

The child’s name—Grogu—weighs heavily in the Mandalorian’s mind like a stone. 

He never assumed the child did or did not have a name, and he never planned on having the kid long enough to consider giving him one. “Kid” was his default, and always seemed to be the safest middle ground. But now, knowing the child’s name, it felt like something much more intimate than he ever intended.

The Mandalorian repeats the name in his mind, over and over, mouthing the syllables to himself. It is strangely soothing as he runs his hands over the controls of the Crest. The child coos to himself in his seat, fiddling with the knob shifter.

The planet of Tython looms before them. As the Mandalorian gazes forward, he couldn’t help the cold sense of dread that kneads at his stomach. He has to do this. He  _ has _ to do this. For Grogu, he thinks, ignoring the heaviness in his chest. He takes a breath.

“Grogu,” he starts, turning in the pilot’s seat. His visor lands on an empty chair. He blinks twice. 

“Kid?” The Mandalorian quickly scans the cockpit, but it’s easy to determine the child must have left while he was distracted. He sighs. Then, he flips on autopilot and moves to the ladder.

He descends, his boots hitting durasteel plates with a satisfying thud, and turns his head. 

“Grogu?” He calls gently. “C’mon buddy, you got to get strapped in so we can land.” 

He doesn’t hear anything in reply. 

Is the child trying to play hide-and-seek? It isn’t out of the realm of possibility, but it’s not the best timing. The selfish part of him shoves that thought aside. He’ll take as much time as he has left with the kid. 

“Okay,” he concedes, “just this one game. Then we need to get ready.”

He stalks around slowly, biding time, letting the child’s giddiness build as he glances behind various crates and nooks and crannies. 

“I’m going to find you,” he says playfully. He walks up to the door of his cot and presses the button, watching it slide up to reveal an empty cavity. His teeth pull at his lip. He’s checked all the usual spots, and it’s not like the Crest is big enough to get lost in. 

The Mandalorian turns his gaze to the alcove on his left, eyes trailing down the line of the wall till he notices a crate on the bottom shelf, slightly askew. He moves toward it before kneeling down and spots the edge of a brown robe. He smiles to himself. He grips the crate and pulls it out of place, bending his helmet in sight of the child.

“There you are, kiddo.” He grins at the child, at his wide, dark eyes that seem to tug at the soul. He watches the child watch him. There is a shift in the air as their time comes to a close and reality settles upon them. The Mandalorian sighs, sobering, aware. 

“Alright, we have to go now.”

The child doesn’t move or make a sound. 

“Grogu,” he says, waving his hand, “c’mon, let’s go. We got to land so we can get to the seeing stone.” 

They stare at each other, caught in a contest. His lips thin into a line.

“We don’t have time for this.” He starts to reach for the child. 

But the child shakes his head, pressing himself somehow further into the dark corner. Immediately, the Mandalorian pulls back as if he were burned. A tight crease appears between his brows.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, concern lining his tone. The child remains silent, though when he meets his gaze, the Mandalorian notices a sheen of tears over his dark eyes. His chest tightens.

“Are you hurt?” The Mandalorian tries to reach in again, just for the child to shrink away, and there’s a sharp pang in his rib cage. 

“Grogu,” he breathes, and he hates how  _ small  _ the child looks, alone and curled up in the corner. It makes the space behind his sternum ache fiercely, a burning need to fix it. 

He doesn’t know what to do.

“Okay then,” he decides. He shifts slowly, movements deliberate as he sits down with his back to the wall, crossing his ankles. “I’ll sit here with you, till you’re ready to come out. All right, Grogu?”

There’s no answering coo, as he expected. He crosses his arms over his chest.

The Crest is quiet. They sit. They breathe.

The Mandalorian thinks of what happened between Corvus and Tython to cause this change. He comes up empty, tilting his helmet back against the wall with a resounding ting.

They sit. They breathe.

“Hey,” he says softly, the rasp of his voice catching in the air. “I never told you this, but I like your name. It’s… nice.” Then, an afterthought, “I’m glad I know it.”

He pauses. “Would you… like to know my name?”

He waits for a sound. 

“I think it’s only fair, huh, kid?”

He turns his head in the child’s direction. 

“My name…” He swallows. “It’s Din... Din Djarin.” 

He repositions, folding his leg close to his chest and rests his arm atop his knee.

“No one’s called me that name in a long time. But…” He clears his throat. “I wanted you to know.”

The child is quiet at that, and he exhales softly. Then, there’s the sound of fabric moving, and the child’s head peeks out. He seems shy, bright eyes meeting his visor. The Mandalorian gives him a half-smile and waits. The child waddles to him, lifting his arms in a sign to be raised. He is quick to oblige. 

The child sits against his chestplate, face buried in his cowl. He breathes a sigh of relief, a gloved hand patting the child’s back.

“Ahsoka said you have a strong attachment to me,” he murmurs. The child’s ear twitches. “I know this must be hard for you.” 

_ It’s hard for me too.  _ He thinks of voicing it.

Instead, he says, “Sometimes, we have to make tough decisions.” 

The Mandalorian tries not to think of what he may have to do soon. Of giving away the warmest weight cradled against him. His heart aches. He shakes his head.

“You’re very special, kid.” And he couldn’t hide the fondness even if he wanted to, sweeping his thumb across the child’s back. He hopes it’s comforting. “My job was to bring you to a Jedi. They’ll know how to help you.”

“I can’t help you.” The words hurt as he said it. A line in the sand, for both of them. He swallows against the lump in his throat. “So you have to go with them, okay?”

The child pulls away and meets his gaze. His eyes are so big and soft, and there’s something else there that the Mandalorian can’t read. He wishes he could. The child coos lowly.

And maybe it’s the moment and he’s feeling sentimental, but he needs the kid to know this. To understand. 

“Grogu,” he says, very soft and kind. The child looks at him. 

“No matter what happens, I’ll always remember you.”

Swallow. Breathe. Ache.

“You’re still my kid.” His voice wavers and threatens to break. “The first member of Clan Djarin, right?”

The child makes a small noise. Then, he pulls at the necklace around him, gripping the mythosaur pendant and holding it up for the Mandalorian to see. He breathes a laugh, broken and wet, nodding his head. 

“Right.” He gives the child a reassuring pat. “You can take that with you.”

He does not know whether he wants the child to remember him or not. Whether he’ll be a footnote in the child’s life, or if decades in the future he’ll even be a memory. He doesn’t dwell on it for long.

This, now, is enough.

It has to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for stopping by!! Comments/kudos are always appreciated if you want 😊❤️
> 
> I'll probably never be over these two TvT 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](https://asunachinadoll.tumblr.com/) for more of them :))))
> 
> I wish you all the best! <333


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